


Dolly

by Yve



Category: Rune Factory (Video Games), Rune Factory 4
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-12
Updated: 2015-11-12
Packaged: 2018-05-01 06:27:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5195594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yve/pseuds/Yve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Intrigued by the shroud of withheld secrets around the quiet guardian, Lest attempts to cultivate closeness with Dolce despite her cold exterior and her poltergeist's persistent animosity toward his advances. Even one small revelation will yield only more mysteries, however, as Lest's curiosity divulges clues about how her guardianship marked her. It turned out to be nothing so obvious as Leon's ears, or Amber's wings, however...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dolly

**Author's Note:**

> I've often found Dolce to be an intriguing character, but I don't actually know much about her backstory. I thought it might be fun to capture that sense of mystery about her without revealing too much, so here's a one-shot that peeks into the possible secrets hidden beneath her serene surface.
> 
> And, Here's a piece of artwork I did before now on another day when I was inspired to do something with her character (and Pico, of course)
> 
>   
>    
> 

She was the only one of them that bore no mark of her captivity in the forest of beginnings. Leon and Dylas' ears and tails, and Amber's wings had no analog in her. To all outward appearances she was what she had been before: a lovely young woman with slender, modest figure and hands, long wavy hair of pale pink and a placid, unchanging expression. The persistent, quiet secrecy of the woman intrigued him, drawing him in again and again, despite her ambivalent or aloof attitude day by day. Lest could not help but puzzle over Dolce's mystery, and beyond that, he couldn't help but pry.

That was precisely why he'd invited her to tea this afternoon. it wasn't the first time he'd extended such an invitation since he'd freed her from her imprisonment within the monster form of 'Marionette', but if she came, it would be the first time she'd accepted it.

The young prince frowned down at the dining table, extending his graceful hand to adjust the place settings for the hundredth time, blinking his violet eyes contemplatively as he scrutinized his work. It wasn't as if there was anything else to sooth his nerves while he waited to find out whether his attempts to forge an acquaintance with Dolce would be rejected once again. He sighed quietly, brow furrowed.

"You should be concerned, knave." A child's voice suddenly spoke from an intimate distance. Lest twitched in surprise and the tension that shot through him with the rush of adrenaline triggered a mild headache immediately. He glowered momentarily across the table at a diminutive figure of a girl in late childhood with acid green eyes, porcelain-pale skin and a peculiar outfit that rather looked like it belonged to a jester or a witch... or both, he supposed.

Pico returned his look with one of her own, even more acidic, and added to her comment:

"Because I will _never_ let you forget it if you hurt my Dolly. I will make regret the only thing you ever feel again... oh, and pain." The threat was all the more eerie and unsettling coming from her pre-adolescent countenance and in her high, delicate voice. Lest swallowed and pinched the bridge of his nose, swallowing and willing himself to return only amicability in the face of the caustic declaration by the little ghost. Reflecting her animosity would only worsen his chances to get to speak to the woman he'd rescued from obsidian mansion on friendly terms.

"I promise you, Pico, If I meant her any harm, I would not have carried her back to the clinic when she first returned from the forest of beginnings." He said patiently, deliberately, "I only want to get to know her; maybe even become friends." Pico narrowed her eyes suspiciously. She nodded slowly and faded into nothingness before his eyes. Lest exhaled slowly, gradually letting the tension leave his shoulders.

Pico had begun by asking for his help, when Dolce was still trapped in the obsidian mansion, asleep and unaware of the monster form that she'd become since sacrificing herself to preserve and support Ventuswill the Divine Wind in fueling the land with runes. Now that he'd granted her pleas and freed 'Dolly', however, the poltergeist had shown every sign of suspicion and resentment, especially when he showed interest in further familiarity with the woman.

He was sure that Pico's possessiveness came from a well-intended love of her, but that did not make dealing with the ghost any easier, really.

"Hello." A low, yet feminine voice called quietly from the entrance of the room, snapping the prince out of his thoughts and filling his stomach with a fluttery feeling. He looked up to find Dolce standing in the doorway, her elegant, decorated attire just as crisp and perfectly laundered as ever, from the rigid top hat upon her head, to the kid gloves encasing her long slender hands, and the polished black shoes on her small, dainty feet.

"Ah, you came." Lest breathed in an excited, but deliberately restrained voice. Perhaps it was her own soft speech, but the young earthmate always felt compelled to speak in quiet, intimate volumes with this particular young woman, almost as if she were a doe that would bound away and disappear if he raised his voice even to the ordinary speaking volumes of streetside conversation. "I'm pleased to see you." He added, just as softly.

She blinked her pale pink eyes at him without a flicker of change to her stony expression. He knew better than to be cowed by such silence, though. Dolce was a woman who must be interpreted by her actions, since her words were few and far between. That she was here at all proved her interest, regardless of what she didn't say. Even so, he thought anxiously, it would be a dismal sort of engagement of she refused to speak to him the entire afternoon. He brushed the thought away and pulled out a chair for her.

"Please, have a seat." He said gently. She stared at him for a couple heartbeats, saying nothing, and then strode over to the table and sat upon the chair, her footsteps so quiet as to imply that she was weightless. Lest stepped around the chair to stand in front of the table just before her and plucked up an ornate teapot from its surface, pouring its contents carefully and deliberately into a delicate, matching teacup at her place setting.

"Relax tea?" The young woman inquired quietly, her eyes flicking up to his face.

"No." He answered in a barely-voiced breath. She glanced down again and her eyes widened ever so slightly. The ruby-colored beverage in the cup released abundant curls of steam, reflecting red light back onto her pale visage as she looked down at it. He placed the teapot back on the ceramic trivet with a small, answering 'clink' and delicately moved the cup and saucer to rest directly in front of her on the tablecloth.

Dolce's eyes fluttered closed and the corners of her mouth quirked into a slight, delicate smile as she breathed in the aroma of the hot juice, like chili pepper, cloves, and cinnamon all rolled into one stimulating scent. Lest smiled too, pleased with himself.

"Margaret told me you were partial to it." He murmured gently. Dolce's gloved fingers found the teacup and caressed it into a loose grip, savoring the heat conducted through the porcelain. She inhaled again, taking up the steam above the cup and sighing happily.

"She is quite correct. This will warm me very nicely." She said in a voice velvety with satisfaction. Then looked up at him and added in deliberate tones, as if it cost her conscious effort to form the words: "Thank you."

"You are most welcome, milady." He answered, bowing at the waist with a smile. She smirked, following him with her eyes while the rest of her remained still, save for the movement of her fingertips still tracing the contours of the teacup. The prince seated himself across from her and poured himself a cup of the drink, his eyes flicking to the windows blazing with the warmth of late spring. He glanced down at her gloved hands wrapped about the teacup.

"If you are cold, my lady, I can fetch you a shawl." He offered gently. She stared at him for a time, then shook her head slightly.

"It is within me." She said cryptically. "The hot drink will more than suffice." He nodded smoothly, undeterred still. He took a sip from his teacup, forcing himself to consider the sensation as the drink slid down his throat, leaving in its wake a growing burn, not altogether unpleasant as long as it was expected.

"You are often cold, then?" He inquired. She nodded slightly. He felt his eyes flick about her person, noting the layers of clothing she wore. True all were charmingly feminine and flattering of her person, but she was completely covered aside from the softly perfect skin of her face, and the pointed ears protruding from either side of her face. She had never said as much, but Lest supposed she must be an elf, based on this detail. He sipped at the drink again, letting the moments stretch between them. Whether or not she intended to contribute to the conversation, he intended to leave her space to do so, without filling every space of silence with his own voice. After a time during which they both drank down half their hot juice in tiny periodic sips, she blinked twice at him and her lips parted to make room for speech.

"Why have you invited me here?" She asked calmly. "Is there not something you wish of me?" He shrugged a shoulder and returned her gaze placidly.

"I merely wanted to spend a little time in your company, and perhaps indulge in conversation with you."

"Why?" She returned laconically. He smiled slightly.

"I am curious about you. I would like to know you, if you're amenable to the idea." He admitted, floating in the serene sense of calm he generally felt in her presence. She remained motionless... inhumanly so, as if not even the normal processes of life could stir her.

"Are you sure you want this?" She said eventually in warning tones. "There is no guarantee you will like what you might find out about me." He held her gaze levelly, pausing for a meaningful beat before answering.

"Yes. I do not expect a guarantee, Dolce. I want to find out for myself who you are." She blinked slowly at him with a cold, calculating gaze. Minutes passed as she considered him. His body grew stiff in his efforts to mirror her stillness as he waited.

Finally, she moved, lifting one long, slender hand in front of her and pinching the middle fingertip of her glove with the fingers of her other hand before gently tugging the thing off, revealing the pale flesh beneath it. Lest's violet eyes widened and his mouth opened in surprise.

The hand she held out before her for him to see was pale as anyone's skin could be, and yet there were scars as white as snow upon them, encircling each joint of each digit as well as her wrist in surgical precision. It was exactly as if she had at one time been deconstructed, segment by segment and, impossibly, sewn back together.

She stared at her own hand a moment with a distant expression, then lowered it, fingers resting delicately on the rim of her teacup. Her pink irises flicked up and locked onto his eyes.

"I cannot promise that you will be able to learn _who_ I am..." She said, low, "But perhaps in time, you will understand better _what_ I am. And that would certainly be a start."

Lest swallowed, unable to blink as he matched her burning gaze. Something bitter flickered through her eyes as she noted this.

"Fear is understandable, I suppose." She said without emotion. Lest huffed a little laugh, both surprised and defiant.

"Fear? Is that what you think you saw in me?" He said, his gaze growing sharp as his mouth turned up in a mischievous little smile. She blinked and a puzzled expression ghosted across her still features. "No, lady." He shook his head, then his smile widened. "Perhaps there is something of me for you to uncover as well."

Dolce blinked slowly at him again, apparently unmoved. Once again, he sternly repressed any inclination to interpret her as she appeared on the surface. His efforts were rewarded almost immediately.

"Well, then." She said quietly, "We will need to make time to do this again, won't we?"


End file.
